The dollar menu. Mello, Matt.
Who: Mello and Matt.
What: After so many long, lonely, single and sad years(months?) spent separate, two friends(???) finally come together again.
When: Friday Oct 12, late night.
Where: McDonalds.
Rating: PG-13 for likely language. Might change, depending. No studded crowbars though, I promise.
Why McDonalds? Despite the bright, vivid colors insisting on burning into his retinas, and despite the crappy quality of the food, it was the first place that had come to mind when he'd finally decided to meet up. Luckily, since it was fairly late at night by now, not too many kids were leftover, leaving no one to crawl over tables or throw salt-saturated french fries into unsuspecting faces. Only a few people loitered about: one man was munching on a cheeseburger near the emergency exit door, a woman disappearing into the restroom, and a younger man talking quietly on a cell phone. There wasn't anyone at the front counter either, but a few uniform-drabbed teenagers were visible farther back, looking more or less like their life sucked and they wouldn't mind being swallowed up by the ground right about now. Sadly, said tile did nothing to oblige.
Mello couldn't blame them. It was Friday night and they were stuck working at a fast food restaurant - not exactly one's choice activity. They could be out drinking, or at a rave somewhere with their other friends. So that would have to explain their absolutely puzzled expressions when a leather-donning high school senior student stepped through the double glass doors and took a seat without ordering a thing, key ring in his hand, apparently belonging to a very expensive-looking Ducati motorcycle that sat forlorn in the parking lot.
Of course, he'd made sure to choose the correct window seat for this particular spot. He was incredibly paranoid about his bike and treated it nicer than he did most people, but so what?
What: After so many long, lonely, single and sad years(months?) spent separate, two friends(???) finally come together again.
When: Friday Oct 12, late night.
Where: McDonalds.
Rating: PG-13 for likely language. Might change, depending. No studded crowbars though, I promise.
Why McDonalds? Despite the bright, vivid colors insisting on burning into his retinas, and despite the crappy quality of the food, it was the first place that had come to mind when he'd finally decided to meet up. Luckily, since it was fairly late at night by now, not too many kids were leftover, leaving no one to crawl over tables or throw salt-saturated french fries into unsuspecting faces. Only a few people loitered about: one man was munching on a cheeseburger near the emergency exit door, a woman disappearing into the restroom, and a younger man talking quietly on a cell phone. There wasn't anyone at the front counter either, but a few uniform-drabbed teenagers were visible farther back, looking more or less like their life sucked and they wouldn't mind being swallowed up by the ground right about now. Sadly, said tile did nothing to oblige.
Mello couldn't blame them. It was Friday night and they were stuck working at a fast food restaurant - not exactly one's choice activity. They could be out drinking, or at a rave somewhere with their other friends. So that would have to explain their absolutely puzzled expressions when a leather-donning high school senior student stepped through the double glass doors and took a seat without ordering a thing, key ring in his hand, apparently belonging to a very expensive-looking Ducati motorcycle that sat forlorn in the parking lot.
Of course, he'd made sure to choose the correct window seat for this particular spot. He was incredibly paranoid about his bike and treated it nicer than he did most people, but so what?